Hope and Fear
by edgelordt
Summary: In an alternate take of the Same As It Never Was universe, Mikey is separated from his family. Stuck in the foot-run city, will a stranger help him find his family or get him killed? Mature themes, violence, and language. OC pairing
1. Injured

Using the app to write this on my phone... Further editing is likely. I hope you enjoy angst, violence, and a whole lot of adult themes!!

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_Drip, drop, plop_

Ash's eyes squinted open as the gentle rain fell on her face. She lay face up in an alley with short but vivid flashbacks reminding her of how she got there. The question was, why was she still alive?

In her weak attempt to get up, she discovered that her legs were either broken or damn near close to it, and her right arm was bleeding out somewhere. She tried to get a look at the state of her body, but could barely open her eyes let alone lift her head. The pain that shot through her spine was nearly enough to knock her out again.

The rain grew faster and began to pelt her as she closed her eyes and decided to give up. If she bled out, at least she'd finally be dead. No more foot dictators running the show, no more having to relive the flashbacks of her family dying violently at the hands of those monsters. No more feeling.

_Thump!_

Someone landed a few feet away from her, but she didn't care enough to open her eyes. Her short, shallow breathing nearly lulled her into unconsciousness before the stranger lifted her into his arms. She tried not to tense, hoping if she played dead they would lose interest, but to no avail. The rain fell faster as wind blew into her face, informing her that they were moving quickly. But would it be quick enough?

As she faded back into unconsciousness, the words she had heard from those monsters before they dumped her body in the streets replayed in her head.

_"You gain his trust, then bring him and his family to us. Maybe then we will let you die."_

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Michelangelo heard the screams in the distance. He knew it meant death would follow and he knew that it was likely another trap set for him, but he couldn't just ignore the cries for help. Still, with only one arm to get by on and no back up around, he knew he had to be even more cautious than his brothers would be. He was unlikely to save anyone— **again**.

From the shadows of a far off building, Mikey observed the foot activity finishing up in a populated apartment building. The foot clan slaves that remained in the city were held up in run-down complexes with only enough substance for them to work during the day.

If he had been any closer to the action he would have heard the sobs before the cry of pain that resonated through the block. He knew in the other buildings people were cowering, wondering if they would be next. He wondered how close the people in that building were and what set off the foot soldiers this time. Were they still just trying to draw him out?

He hid further back into the shadows as the foot left the building, his paranoia assuring him he would be caught soon. Movement on the fire escape caught his eye, and he quickly made out a struggling body being dangled over the edge, threatened with a 3-story drop to the ground below.

Mikey gritted his teeth and clenched his fist around his nunchuck, looking away as he knew there was nothing he could do with so many foot soldiers around. A distant _thud_ told him that the body had managed to at least hit a dumpster before the concrete, and he finally gained the courage to watch the foot soldiers leave.

He was certain whoever that was had died from the fall, and yet something told him to go make sure. He knew no one else would— it was past curfew after all. However, all of the foot seemed to clear the area. As suspicious as it was, he needed to satisfy his curiosity. So, with the shadows as his guide, Mikey made his way to the alley where the body of a girl lay face up. He could see she was struggling to move, which only meant that she was alive!

He dropped down from where he was positioned and approached her cautiously. She was in rough shape. The rain washed away most of the blood coming out of her arm, and it was clear from her struggle that she was in deep pain and fighting just to stay alive.

He picked her up carefully and began to carry her to his hideout, careful to remain in the shadows while trying not to break her more. He could at least try to save her while she was still breathing.

"Just hang on, I got you."


	2. Desperation

Mikey struggled to carry the woman's body with only one and a half arms. He was nearly covered in her blood as the rain washed it down his body, and he knew he needed to stop somewhere fast before she was gone completely. He turned on a faucet with his foot when he reached an abandoned building, before shoving his way inside and out of the rain. Immediately, his wet body began to shiver from the cold, but he refused to stop there.

To anyone else, it appeared that he was lost and simply seeking shelter, but the faucet's water splashed its way underground, alerting someone inside that they had a visitor. Mikey hoped to whatever forces were at work that he wasn't being followed inside, and he hurried through the stairwell's doorway to meet his ally in the basement.

Anticipating the arrival of a new patient, Dr. Harriet began setting up for her next visit. She wasn't visited too often, but she liked to be prepared just in case. The patient who was about to enter was the last thing she expected, however.

Mikey entered the office, panting and desperately clinging to a lifeless body that had coated his arms and plastron with blood. He placed her on the table as gently as he could before explaining what he had seen to the doctor.

She interrupted him before he could finish.

"I don't know what I can do about this, Mikey," she said impatiently as she wiped away blood to determine her patient's wounds. "You_ know_ I don't accept lost causes. There are too few resources to-"

"Please!" Mikey cried desperately. "Just, save her. Save _one_. We have to. Please, Harriet."

He was holding himself up against the table, still trying to catch his breath while ignoring the freezing cold against his skin. Harriet continued to identify areas of blood loss and began to work on stitching her up. "Well if you want to save her you had better get off your ass and help me."

As he was instructed, Mikey got to work applying pressure on wounds Harriet couldn't get to at first, and they worked as quickly as possible to seal up every cut they could see.

Soaked cotton and bandages surrounded the table on the floor, and as Mikey finished wiping away blood, the doctor checked for a pulse.

"I can't believe she's still got one," she sighed. "It's faint as hell, but we might actually be able to save this one. We can't stop now though, go to the fridge."

Doctor Harriet was no stranger to losing patients who came in after being attacked by foot soldiers. To avoid the soldiers witnessing her presence, every patient was near death's door, or was through it before she could even tell what was going on. If she was able to stitch them up and they still had a promising pulse, _then_ she'd be able to move on to her next step- blood transfusion.

Equipment was nearly impossible to come by, but it was the only payment she accepted, so rebel groups put all their efforts into getting whatever they could for her and other doctors in the underground. It was just everyone's luck that she was O-.

They set everything up for the transfusion, and she checked for a pulse one last time. "We're good, check on our defenses while I begin transfusion."

After starting the process, Harriet began checking other parts of her patient's body for fractures and other injuries. Mikey made sure all exits and entrances were completely shut and blocked before returning.

"All clear, how is she?" he asked as soon as he entered.

"Mikey, I'm not sure she's worth the blood," Harriet replied, her hand ready to end the process. "You said they dropped her from a _building_. Her blood may still be pumping, but I don't even know if she can fully heal from this. She's going to be in unimaginable pain, and I can't even grasp the full extent of her injuries yet."

His brows furrowed and he grabbed her hand, almost too tightly. "Don't." His desperation broke his voice. "Please, Harriet. You can't just keep that blood stored and never use it."

Defiantly, she stared into his eyes, her hand grasping the blood sack. They stayed that way for a moment. Between Mikey's desperate need to save someone and her intense desire to save her blood for someone who _really_ needed it, the tension was almost thick enough for the unconscious Ash to sense it.

Finally, Harriet released her breath and removed her hand from the blood. "Fine."

Mikey breathed a sigh of relief, but his momentary victory was cut short. "But, Michelangelo," Harriet warned sternly. "Once she wakes up, she's _your_ responsibility. I want her out of here."

He nodded, swallowing as he accepted her terms. He stared at the woman he had just brought in, her blood drying on his plastron and on her skin. Anyone would know her injuries were beyond saving, that it would have been more merciful to let her die out there in the rain, but he couldn't stop himself from begging for her life to be spared. For just _one life_ to be saved in the hell they lived in.

He watched as color started to return to her skin. Her breathing became detectable from where he sat. And as Harriet cleaned up her office and took inventory of the items she would need to restock, Mikey allowed himself to rest for the night. He was going to need it.

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Please leave a review if you feel so inclined! I'm trying to fill out a sloppy vision in my head and I hope it translates alright. :D


	3. Introductions

Ash woke first to the pain that filled her body. It was centralized around her right arm and back, but no part of her form wanted to exist in that moment. As she urgently opened her eyes to view her surroundings, her first thought was that she was still alive, and she didn't know why.

She was alone in a dark room, barely able to see anything around her. What she could tell through the pain coursing through her was that she was on a soft surface, and the room looked like it was either incompletely built or had been demolished at some point.

She could barely pay attention to the details as her body continued to remind her of all the injuries she had suffered from the foot. She sat up despite her back warning her not to move and started to examine what little she could in the darkness. Light shone through some cracks in a wall down a hallway, but she couldn't be bothered yet to explore.

Examining her hands as they rested in her lap, Ash struggled to form coherent thought. Her head pounded with the same disbelief she had in her mind—she should be dead. A bandage on her right arm covered the gash provided by a soldier trying to keep her still. She could feel it swollen and hot, but the sensation was drowned out by another wave of pain attacking her head.

While placing her left hand to her face, she felt around for extra cuts and bruises, but found that her face was far less sensitive than she thought it'd be. She was certain that she had been beaten well enough to have a black eye or broken nose, but it was just as sore as a healing bruise. Scabs from where her teeth busted her lip or where a punch broke skin felt at least a few days old.

"How long was I out?" she quietly asked herself, realizing then how dry her throat was. Coughing gave her a good idea of the state of her ribs, and she wondered if she'd even be able to stand.

Deciding to rest, she sat back against the wall and tried to take in her surroundings. She saw a table with a glass on it a few feet in front of her. Underneath her, she saw a mattress with a single pillow, blanket, and blood stains. The stains were fresh enough to be hers, but that would have meant her bandages were recently changed.

She closed her eyes to try and make sense of it, but as she grew used to the pain memories flooded back to her with no holds barred. Images of her family, slaughtered, as she watched helplessly from the ground, flooded her mind and forced tears out from her eyes. She couldn't fight off the images lest they demand more attention. The last thing she remembered was hearing one soldier tell her to befriend someone and gain their trust—but who were they talking about?

Her gentle and pained crying was heard by Mikey in the next room. The sound interrupted his attempted meditation while he knelt in front of a very crude altar made in honor of his lost family. He allowed a halfhearted conclusion to his thoughts as he stood up and prepared to meet the woman in the next room. He knew she would be confused and in a whole lot of pain, but he was just as hopeful about talking to her as he was about her surviving.

Before he entered the room, he tried to peek around the entrance to get a look at the situation. The only time he had seen her was when she was laying with hardly any sign of life in her. He saw her struggle through pain to adjust herself on his mattress. She wiped her nose and continued to cry while staring intently at the table across the room. He had left a glass of water for her in case she got up while he was out, but it didn't seem like she had gotten up yet. He wasn't sure if she could.

Mikey was about to knock and enter the room before he noticed her trying to stand while using the wall for support. He decided to watch.

Ash gritted her teeth to the point she thought she might bust out one of her molar fillings. Even with the amount of pain she was in, she didn't want to be trapped with some stranger in a completely strange place for who knew what reason! The foot had brought out the worst in people, and she wasn't about to be the victim of someone's mental break.

When she wasn't wincing, her eyes were fixed on the glass that sat on the table. Her back was on fire, and her right arm wasn't nearly as strong as her left. The fact that she was still alive was a big 'fuck you' to the foot _and_ herself.

Her legs wobbled as she tried putting more of her weight on them. Every muscle in her back was screaming for her to stop moving, but her determination and paranoia were stronger. She grunted and held still for a moment as her legs threatened to collapse under her. Even her arms were starting to give in.

She let out a breath, "Gah!" and slipped down the wall. Mikey could only watch her struggle for so long.

His knock on the door-less door frame startled her and she fell, painfully, back onto the mattress. Her surprised yelp made him wince.

She glared at him for only a second before turning her attention back to her injured limbs.

"Shit, sorry," he said as he entered, bringing his hand up apologetically. "I was trying to _not_ do that…"

Ash's breathing suddenly became faster and shallower as she stared at the creature who was now blocking the only exit. His skin was green and scarred, and she quickly noticed he was missing half of an arm. His expression could have been compassionate and friendly, if it wasn't on a face ridden with grief and stress and half-covered by an orange mask. It took her a second to notice, but he also had a shell on his back that was just as weathered as the rest of him.

Mikey could see that she was only more distressed after he entered the room, and he let out a soft sigh. Was it better to just introduce himself, or should he try to calm her down? He used to be a pro at easing humans into accepting his appearance, but he was far too tired to deal with all of those nuances now. "Yeah, I'm a giant talking turtle, and no you're not hallucinating."

He walked further into the room and leaned against the wall opposite of her. "My name's Mikey."

Ash remained pressed against the wall, feeling more threatened than ever. _Mikey_, played out in her head as she tried to figure out what her next move would be. He didn't have anything foot related on him, and it wouldn't have made any sense for him to try to keep her alive, and yet she was almost certain he was the one who did.

"Did you bring me here?" she asked.

"Yes," he said with a nod.

"So you saved my life?"

"Yes," he said again.

Her eyes narrowed and her next question dripped with malice. "_Why_?"

"You know, usually people say 'thank you.'"

"Only when they didn't _want_ to die," she stated.

Mikey could feel her anger radiate through the room. Her statement wasn't _completely_ unexpected, but the power in her emotions and words caught him off guard. The last time he felt anything like that was after Splinter had died.

"Well, forgive me for saving your life," he replied, unable to keep in his own negative feelings about the matter. Maybe the doctor had been right.

"_What_ life?" she asked, wincing as she tried to get up again. "You think you did me a favor? Oh, helpless chick got attacked and left for dead by foot soldiers after being _dropped_ from a _window_. The world is _so worth _living in, let me save her life!" She stopped moving with her legs bent as she was halfway up. "Tell me—how easy was it to save me? There's a lot of dried blood on this mattress."

Suddenly, Mikey thought he understood. Of course being in as much pain as she was in, coupled with where they were and who he was, she wouldn't want to have been saved. At least not by him. It's much easier to die than to deal with pain.

"You were bleeding out in an alley, I couldn't just leave you there," he said. "Anyone who could have would have wanted to save you, you know."

Ash continued to struggle to stand up, and Mikey felt compelled to help. "No one who was in that building would have dared," she muttered while he approached.

She shook off his attempted help.

"_Let me help you_," he said softly, holding onto the reason why he chose to help her in the first place.

They shared a moment of silent exchange when she looked at him. She could finally see his eyes with how close he was, and the complexity that was behind them. She knew he wasn't a foot soldier, but she couldn't shake that something was off. Still, she really needed to find out if she could stand, and he hadn't done anything but try to help her so far.

She accepted his help and finally stood on her feet with his support. "If you really wanted to help, you wouldn't have saved me. I've got nowhere to go now," she admitted solemnly.

She let go of his arm and leaned against the wall. Her legs still shook, and her back was still on fire with pain, but she was finally standing on her own.

"There's too much death these days," Mikey replied with similar tone. "I… You had a chance to live and I didn't want to waste it."

She stared at the ground while she got used to the new sensations of pain and tried to make sense of the new chapter before her. She had no idea why this strange creature had gone to any length to save her life, but his words told her enough about his motivations. "My name is Ash," she told him coldly. "Thanks."

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Please leave a review if you would be so kind! I don't have any beta readers other than myself, and that doesn't make things much better. Thanks!


	4. Alone

Ash found it incredibly hard to sleep through the pain and the smell of dried blood. She felt at least somewhat comforted by the fact it was her own blood she was laying in, but it was still unpleasant. Mikey had gone out to do whatever it was a post-apocalypse hero did while she laid in bed all day.

Though she wanted to get up and move around for herself, his doctor friend insisted she needed to rest and heal whatever she had done to her back. She had finally gotten some water, but her hunger didn't return until well after Mikey left. Once she gave up on sleeping, she stared at the table and started to convince herself it really _wasn't_ that far away.

Outside, the sun was almost always in a state of cover from the amount of thick clouds and smog churned out. Mikey was grateful that the weather was consistently in a state of dreariness since it helped give him some cover during the day, but he still missed the freshness of a cloudless sky.

He wandered around the part of the city where foot soldiers rarely occupied, particularly in the early morning. The people they managed to enslave for their work would be switching shifts at that time, making travel safer for rebels. Mikey's main goal lately was trying to find the main rebel force that was hiding out in the east side of Brooklyn to see if they were in contact with anyone else. The only luck he had was finding people who were hiding, but not aligned with the rebels.

His second goal was to provide relief of some kind to whoever he found. The best way he did that was running errands and dropping food and other goods off. This was also how he managed to gain food or other goods to trade.

He started on his first goal, maneuvering around the depressing city he called home. The task was almost easy, ever since the foot rid themselves of unnecessary territory through demolition.

When Mikey arrived at the city's new trench, he realized he wouldn't be having any more luck than he had the entire week. He stood atop the building, staring at the scene and remembering the day it happened.

Anyone caught up in the blasts were lost. Mikey was separated from his brothers when he tried to save some of the others, and once the buildings and tunnels were gone, drones and mines monitored the areas. He was sure he could get by the drones easily, but after nearly losing a leg, too, he decided traveling across the trench wasn't a good idea on his own.

Besides, now he had someone to take care of.

He sighed and decided to try and accomplish a tertiary goal—finding painkillers for Ash. Dr. Harriet was well prepared for most things, but painkillers were one of the items she rarely had. Without much help from anyone else he came across, Mikey settled for entering abandoned buildings to search for any that were left behind. Unfortunately, small bottles were one of the hardest things to find in rubble and darkness.

As Mikey searched through a neighborhood, Ash was back to trying to move herself. As humiliating as it was, she found that crawling was the easiest way for her to get across the room. Once she was at the table, she was able to get herself up and sitting in a chair. Her hands and legs were shaking, but she was proud of making it that far. She had no idea when Mikey would be back, and she was going to need to use the bathroom soon. Unfortunately, she was already feeling exhausted just from moving across the room. She hoped the bathroom wasn't far.

Cursing everything that brought her to this moment, she clenched her shaky fist. The guy that had saved her left her alone there for hours to just _sit_ and _think_. No matter how she tried, her mind kept drifting back to the attack. Her family was hiding after a blast that had ruined any chance of her brother being able to work, and then the very ones who had injured him arrived to punish him for it. They all tried to stand up for him, and they all ended up dead… except for her.

_Why?_ She wondered as rage and grief filled her heart once again. _Why am I still alive?!_ She pounded her fist on the table, wincing through the pain that shot up her arm, and cursed Mikey for his attempted heroism. _And for what? A feeling of accomplishment? So he wasn't alone?_ The more she thought about it, the more disgusted she became.

There was no good reason for her to be alive.

She made small movements to stretch the muscles in her hands and feet, preparing for a small adventure through the mystery building she was in. No matter how she was feeling, she couldn't die just by willing it. Based on the concrete floor and walls in the hallway, she was almost certain she was in a basement. There was barely any light outside of the room she was in, other than a faint glow from a room close by.

She quickly prayed that it was the bathroom and staggered her way against the wall. Once she could see inside, she could tell it wasn't what she needed, but it intrigued her enough to enter. The small room had a big stick leaning against a far wall with dead and dried up plants surrounding it. Along the side wall was a small puddle from a leaking pipe overhead. There was another pillow in front of the stick and plant arrangements that had two distinct imprints in it.

The sight was strange to her, but she could understand its purpose. She continued along the wall once she saw another item among the dried plants.

It was a photo.

Curiously, she stumbled forward, eventually collapsing on the pillow as she made out the picture that sat atop the plants.

Suddenly, things made a bit more sense to her. Tears fell down her face again and she bowed her head to the altar she stumbled onto.

Mikey had a family, too. And now they were _both_ alone. Her rage came forward again. She lifted her head to the stick while gripping the pillow underneath her.

"I don't know who you are, but I'm _not you_." She shook her head, tears still falling. "I shouldn't be alive! I should be with _my_ family—not with yours!"

Energized by her screaming, she clambered out of the room while ignoring the pain entirely. She had to get out of there, and she didn't care what she hurt while she did it.

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Please let me know how you are enjoying this! I wrote it for myself because I'm a freakin edgelord but I enjoy validation and constructive criticisms.


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